


Diagnosis

by Vae



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Firefly
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-19
Updated: 2010-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-07 07:33:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/745939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vae/pseuds/Vae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon has a new mentor for his internship</p>
            </blockquote>





	Diagnosis

**Author's Note:**

> Firefly is the IP of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, FOX and Universal. The Doctor belongs to the BBC. The characters and worlds herein do not belong to me, and I make no profit by this. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Pulled out from the depths of my LJ and posted here for archive purposes. Originally written for [](http://wildannuette.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://wildannuette.livejournal.com/)**wildannuette** who was kind enough to prompt me.

"Mr. Tam!"

Simon stopped at the sound of his name, resisting the urge to simply pretend he'd not heard it. Six months into his internship, and he was exhausted by the end of each shift. Sometimes he was convinced he was existing on nerves and caffeine, but it was worth it, to know he was making progress. There had even been hints that his internship might finish early.

Summoning the polite half-smile he learned for his parents' dinner parties (and which proved useful for dealing with emotional patients and hospital management alike), Simon turned. The man hailing him looked vaguely familiar. One of the visiting lecturers, maybe. "Yes?"

"Mr. Tam," the man repeated, with a wide smile. "I've been assigned as your mentor." He held out an expectant hand.

Simon took it, and found his entire arm shaken with enthusiasm. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't catch your name?"

"Me? Oh, I'm the Doctor." He released Simon's hand and produced a folded sheet of paper. Simon unfolded it to read that, indeed, this was his mentor. And there was still no name.

He returned the paper, and the Doctor tilted his head to one side. "Coffee," he pronounced, definitely. "Come on."

Not seeing any other choice, Simon followed, jogging every few steps to keep up with the man's long strides.

***

That first time, Simon was disconcerted when the Doctor led him back to his private rooms rather than out to a cafe, or even down to the canteen. Once they began talking, though, it made sense - the Doctor seemed to have full knowledge of everything Simon was working on, in minute detail, and there was no way patient confidentiality could have been maintained in a public place.

It didn't take many meetings for Simon to begin to ignore the fact that the Doctor never gave his name. There were enough staff in the hospital who expected to be addressed by the anonymous title that he didn't even think about it after the third mentoring session.

At the end of it, the Doctor leaned back in his chair, long legs stretched in front of him, ankles crossed, and frowned at Simon. "You have family, Mr. Tam."

It was phrased as a question, but the intonation wasn't a query. Simon had given up being surprised by the Doctor's encyclopedic knowledge, and besides, the information was freely available in his personnel file. "Yes, I do."

"How's your sister?"

Simon paused. Although the Doctor appeared completely relaxed, the ever-present grin had faded, leaving an odd intensity, which made him consider his answer rather than returning a polite phrase designed to say nothing and yet satisfy etiquette. River was fine, of course she was fine, she was at the academy, learning, dancing...she'd wanted to go. "I don't...We've not heard from her recently."

Not for weeks, he realized. Not for months. Back when she'd first left home, she'd written every week, regular as clockwork, and then the letters had tailed off. His parents had smiled, and assured him it was normal, she was settling in, making friends, but...

A hand covering Simon's own brought him back from his thoughts, and he looked up to see the Doctor leaning forwards, glasses slipped down his nose. "Well, then. We'll just have to do something about that."

***

The letter arrived a week later. Far from allaying Simon's fears, it fed them. In place of River's usual coherency were riddles and ramblings, references he couldn't decipher, misspellings and broken grammar. Her writing sprawled across the page, varying in height and width, lines crossing each other, letters alternating between sharp, narrow spikiness and round, elaborate spirals.

The next one was worse. Simon found himself distracted during his rounds, waking in the night to search for sense in half-remembered phrases, and then fell asleep in lectures.

After the third, Simon was summoned to an interview with his mentor.

***

The Doctor was waiting for him in the interview room set aside for disciplinary hearings. Straightening his coat, Simon took a deep breath, and pushed the door open. "Doctor?"

"Ah. Mr. Tam." The Doctor set his pen down on the table with a precise click, and looked up at Simon. "You and I both know why you're here."

Simon set his shoulders and looked the man directly in the eye. "Yes, Doctor."

Unexpectedly, the Doctor smiled. "Good. Well, then, there's no need for me to go through this whole formal rigmarole. You've been a very naughty boy, Mr. Tam. Neglecting your studies, could have put your patients at risk...but you already know that. So consider your wrist officially slapped, and know that the high-ups are watching you." Crossing the room, he held the door for Simon to leave. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Tam."

Confused, Simon didn't move.

The Doctor frowned, jerking his head in the direction of the doorway. "Mr. Tam?"

"I don't -"

" _Thank_ you, Mr. Tam." There's steel underlying the gentle tone.

Simon left. Ten minutes later, he found the note pushed into his pocket.

***

The room was dark when Simon entered, a small pool of light cast by a table lamp in one corner of the room. For a few minutes, he thought he was alone in the room, until the Doctor moved. He looked different to the way Simon was used to seeing him, white coat discarded, glasses folded on the table, lenses reflecting the light, the eyes revealed fever bright. "Simon."

He sounded different, as well, voice softer, lower, and it was the first time he'd ever used Simon's name.

"Doctor," Simon responded.

"Close the door." The Doctor turned to face him, leaning back against the desk. "Did you bring them?"

Simon dug into his pocket, retrieving River's letters. They were worn at the edges, fold lines creased deep into the paper. "I did."

"Over here."

Spread out under the soft light, the letters made no more sense. The Doctor squinted at them, and then shook his head. "Three. Should be able to find a pattern from three. What's wrong with them, Simon?"

Stepping forwards again, Simon tried to explain. About his sister, and how she'd been before leaving home, what her earlier letters had been like, the logic faults and skips in coherency. The Doctor waved a hand, cutting him off. "No, no. What's _wrong_ with them? Stop looking at them like a brother." His tone shifted, harsher, more impersonal. "What are the symptoms, Mr. Tam?"

Simon shook himself, and looked again, trying not to see River in the broken language. It was clearly spelled out for him, and his heart sank. "Paranoid schizophrenia."

"Correct. Any history of same?"

"Nothing."

"Kind of unusual to see the classic symptoms appear so quickly, isn't it?" It sounded like an idle question, but Simon had learned that the Doctor didn't ask idle questions.

There had to be something there. Something more, something of River behind the fractured image presented, like looking through a broken window, something still there beyond the cracked panes. Something...there! Simon blinked, finger tracing the first line of text, pausing, skipping, repeating the process on the second letter. And the third. "It's a code..."

"Correct. Any history of same?"

Simon was tempted to snap at the repeated question, but the Doctor was right. River had always been fascinated by the patterns of numbers and letters, creating codes, challenging him to break them, to interpret them, and this one was...His finger fell away from the page. "Lăo tiān, bù..."

The Doctor was by his side in an instant, lifting his hand back to the paper. "Simon?"

"I...I have to get her out!" The message, so clear, repeated over and over, twice in the first letter, once in the second, three times in the third, and he'd missed it, missed it each time. _They're hurting us_. "I have to -"

"Simon!" The Doctor's hand was on his chin, long fingers forcing his face around, gaze away from the letters and onto the Doctor's eyes, warm with compassion, intent, intense. "Simon. Listen to yourself. You're one man - you've not even finished your training. And you want to remove your sister from a government sponsored institution?"

Simon stared in disbelief. "I can't leave her there! My parents will help. My father has connections, he can contact...I don't know how, but I can't leave her there. Can't you _see_ what she's written?"

The Doctor held his eyes in silence for a long moment, and then released him, turning away. "One week. Come back here in one week. Don't let it affect your work, because I can't keep the administration off you twice. Talk to your family. Be careful."

***

A week later, Simon went back. The room was deserted, no trace of light or of people, which suited Simon just fine. It gave him space and time to pace the edge off of his fury, betrayal biting deep. He'd never seriously doubted that his family would support him in bringing River home.

He turned at the quiet snick of the latch sliding out of the housing. The Doctor stood in the doorway, face hidden in the shadows cast by the light streaming from behind him, a convenient target for Simon's frustration.

"You knew!" Simon accused, fists clenched. "All you said, last week...you knew. You _know_!"

The Doctor nodded once in acknowledgment, and closed the door, reaching to flick the light switch, flooding the room with merciless fluorescent brightness. "I suspected. I'm sorry, Simon. I'm so sorry."

His pity was too much to bear. Simon launched himself at the Doctor, no clear objective in his mind, just the need to do something, enact some kind of revenge for the knowledge not shared. It didn't work. The Doctor simply reached out and wrapped arms around him, holding him close until his struggles subsided, anger giving way to despair. "I can't...I have to do something. I can't leave her there. She _asked_ me!"

The Doctor's hands stroked soothingly over his back, slow, calming movements, until one hand traced up his spine, cradling the back of his head. "Are you sure, Simon? Without your parents' approval, this will be kidnap, and a whole lot more besides."

"She's all I've got left," Simon muttered, voice muffled by the soft fabric of the Doctor's jacket, pressed against his face. "I have to get her out!"

"She won't ever be the same," the Doctor continued, voice low. "She'll be so different, still your sister, but not the girl you knew. And if you do this...it'll change you, too. This could change the entire universe. So tell me this, Simon." The hand at the back of Simon's head teased him back, until he was looking directly into the Doctor's face, into compassionate brown eyes, deadly serious, despite what had to be exaggeration. "Are you certain that you want to do this?"

One girl. How could one girl change the universe? How could he do anything other than fetch her out? There was no way he could leave his sister to be...tortured. Abused. Simon took a deep breath, looking straight into the Doctor's eyes. "I'm certain."


End file.
